


Tapestry of Pain

by yet_intrepid



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Captivity, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Pain, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Angband, Maedhros develops pain-color synesthesia as a coping mechanism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tapestry of Pain

**Author's Note:**

> Quenya names are used in this work: Angamando for Angband, Maitimo for Maedhros.

There is so little light in the dungeons of Angamando that Maitimo takes to imagining colors where he cannot see them. The soreness where he has been kicked is purple, but darker than the little bruises he used to gain in swordplay or in wrestling his brothers. It is purple like grapes, their skins about to burst with wine even as his own skin barely holds back the blood. Sometimes, when he lies in the hole where they have thrown him and closes his eyes, purple stains his darkened vision, a dye irregularly mixed.

He has never before been so aware of his embodiment.

The throbbing of his head is molten and bright like metal from his father’s forge. Oranges and yellows pulse and swirl—darker at his temples, fire-gold behind his eyes. Dark spots pound against the glow: a hammer falling.

Never before has the reality that he is bound to his flesh seemed so keen.

They broke his foot, once, ages ago. The pervasive ache of bones badly healed is white, a dull blur. Sometimes it builds and peaks, flashing up his leg, and he is nearly blinded with the whiteness.

The hunger that sinks deep in his gut is by turns stone gray and darkest blue. The blue is that of the sea—bottomless, demanding, never silent. The gray is sharp cliffs and blunt blades.

His thirst is ashy-pink like his heavy tongue.

Each limb and organ glows; every new pain is woven into the tapestry of his body. Never before has he felt so colorful, so solid, as when he lies in the blackness of Angamando and labors to breathe.


End file.
